Lost Soul, Terry Found
by Bumpkin
Summary: An exploration of Terry's POV during the episode Lost Soul – from the time that they found the suit missing until the end of the episode with some extra scenes tossed in for good measure.


AN: Okay I have a serious issue with the way that FF net here keeps taking away formatting stuff. I personally like certain characters to be available for emphasis and page breaks, and I like to have the first line of each paragraph indented for when I write and read fics. I find it makes things easier all around that way. I used to be able to fudge a version with indents by spacing five times, now it won't even allow that... grrr. Anyway I just needed to get that off my chest, I'm done now so on to the fic... and remember ppl, FDK is very important to the muses of writers whose work you enjoy - even a super quick note saying that you liked it is very welcome. It doesn't even have to be coherant g .

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Disclaimer: It never hurts a body to dream...

Description: An exploration of Terry's POV during the episode Lost Soul – from the time that they found the suit missing until the end of the episode.

Lost Soul, Terry Found.  
By Marns AKA Bumpkin  
Rated: PG-13

Terry stood at the hole that the suit had made in the cave wall and stared out with a pained expression. The setting sun streaming into the cave felt like it was reproaching him. His eyes dropped momentarily in anger and then he turned asking,

"Any luck with the kill switch?"

His mentor's gravelly voice sounded almost as dispirited as his own when the reply came, "No, it's dead." Then the old man clenched his fist around the ruins of their control mechanism in his own anger.

As they walked towards each other Terry said, "It's my fault. I should've stayed here and made sure that there was nothing left of him in the suit."

Bruce tried to comfort the kid, saying simply. "Can't do anything about it now."

"Yes I can!" Terry looked up. "He said he needed to use his old lab." Determined Terry began to walk away. Bruce caught his arm in a surprisingly strong grip, stopping Terry in his tracks and asked,

"Where do you think you're going?"

Terry met Bruce's eyes, "To Vance's lab. To stop him"

"How?"

"I – uh – I'll figure something out." 'Jeez, Bruce, nothing like putting me on the spot.' Terry thought

"Look what the suit did to that wall, you think you can go up against that?"

Terry looked down and frowned. Thinking aloud he said, "Sometimes I ask myself – Is Batman just the suit, or is it the man inside?" He paused as he remembered who he was talking to, but then again Bruce never really had to wonder if he was Batman or not – he had created the hero. He had never had to follow in anyone's shadow, let alone that of a living legend.

Terry started to walk away again. "Time to find out."

"Terry."

Terry stopped wondering how else Bruce was going to try and stop him. He turned to look at his mentor over his shoulder with an eloquently raised eyebrow. But to his surprise Bruce went to his original costume's case and opened the glass door. Reaching in he undid the utility belt with one hand. Terry began to walk back towards the older man as Bruce said,

"Better take this, it's got some things you might be able to use."

"Thanks." Terry was stunned; he would have never expected this. He buckled the old belt on over his own as Bruce continued,

"I'd give you one of my old costumes, but most of them are pretty torn up – you know – bullet holes, burns, gashes..."

Terry wanted to smile, he now understood. "I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work." he said as he opened the glass on the Nightwing case and took out the mask to put on. "I'm still going."

Incredulous, Terry watched as Bruce's lips rose into a slight smile. The old man actually looked proud of him. He gave an answering smile back and walked to the Batmobile. He had a rogue Batsuit to recover.

It didn't take him long to get to the old Vance building in central Gotham, not even with the reduced speeds he had to keep the Batmobile flying at because he wasn't wearing the suit. He had to go at the slower speed because when he had first started out at his usual speed, the g-forces that his suit normally protected him from had nearly taken his breath away. His lungs couldn't compete with that kind of acceleration for air pressure, and he had almost passed out. Terry also had to make sure that the Batmobile was at a dead stop and hovering much lower than he usually had it when he pulled the escape handles to drop to the roof.

He shrugged off the differences as he ran over to the nearest of the two grates on the wall. He yanked on it a few times before he saw the lock at the top. 'Hmm,' he thought looking at it for a moment, 'time to check the old utility belt'. See if we can find anything to help me out here. Peeking quickly into several compartments, he found the perfect tool in the third. A lock-pick, he grinned at it as he held it up in front of his eyes, 'who knew that my tainted past would come in so handy as a hero?'

He made quick work of unlocking the grate and pulled it down, "Yes." He hissed in satisfaction. So far he wasn't doing too shabby. He crawled into the ductwork and followed it down to where Bruce had said the lab was. He could hear the suit talking before he could see into the lab,

"I didn't give you enough sedative, that's what happened."

Terry reached the overhead vent and peered in as another voice spoke, it was young Bobby Vance. "What are you doing to me?"

Grandpa Vance program decided to explain, in the manner of all good villains, as he switched on the MRI imager to scan his grandson.

"It's what I'm doing for you. See, you are not going to have to worry about running the company anymore – " The Vance-possessed suit stopped talking as its hand got caught in the magnetic field generated by the MRI scanner and the glove spasmed before becoming unresponsive.

Terry hissed, "Magnet." as he watched the arm pulled back sharply, the hand hanging limp halfway down the forearm. He now knew what he had to do to stop the rogue program – find someway to introduce an electromagnetic field into the Batsuit's onboard computer - now, just how to do it? The program soon restored control to the limb and finished it's speech.

"– That's because I'm going to be in charge again."

Bobby looked scared. "In that suit?" he asked then winced as an electrified clawed headdress clamped around his head.

"No Bobby," echoed Vance the elder's voice from the cowl, answering him ominously. "In you."

"But – where will I be?" Bobby asked pitifully.

"Wherever deleted programs go." Was the heartless answer and Terry winced. 'Ow, that can't be good for the self-esteem,' he thought.

Terry kicked out the vent grille and dropped through just as the rogue program started its transfer. He landed on top of some large machine and flipped open an old style batarang. Aiming for the cord that joined the suit to Bobby, Terry threw and watched as it went wide and hit the screen. "Nice shot." He slapped himself in the head as he thought that it might have been a plan to throw a practice one or two of the things back at the cave. He had forgotten how different some of his reflexes were when he wasn't wearing the suit. Too late to worry about it now; the miss had already alerted Grandpa Vance that he was there.

Terry grabbed a cable, ripping it from its mooring as he swung down feet-first just as Vance senior saw where he was. His feet impacted with the flat face of the hollow suit and felt like they hit steel. 'Damn!' Clumsily he pushed off backwards, managing to at least grab and tug loose the cable he had tried to cut with the badly thrown batarang. Moving fast, he did a backwards handspring and threw the cable away, then bounded to the upper part of the MRI machine. Squatting, he beckoned for Vance senior to come and get him, thinking that since Bobby was safe for the moment– it was now time to take care of the suit. Yeah, easier said than done, McGinnis.

Then Grandpa Vance did something that Terry didn't expect – it turned on the camouflage option. 'Well slaggit! Who would have thought that the program would have gone over the suit's specs?' Terry thought to himself as he strained to hear anything that would give him a clue as to what it was going to do next. The tell tale snick of a batarang being fired from one of the gauntlet launchers gave him enough warning to jump, as what he had just been sitting on was destroyed into flaming rubble bare seconds later.

A sparking sound caught Terry's attention as he stood up. He looked down and saw that the heat of the nearby flames had ignited the explosives that he was carrying. Slag-_it! _He fumbled with the buckle to undo the belt; he had to get it off quick, before they went off. Just as he got it undone he saw an invisible foot crush some fallen concrete. 'Aha! There you are!' He flung the belt in the camouflaged suit's direction and quickly ducked behind a large machine. He found a large wrench near his sheltered spot and picked it up.

He waited until he heard the last of the explosions before he came back around the corner, wrench in hand. As he did he saw the suit, visible again, sparking and damaged badly around the lenses, step through the black cloud of smoke. It didn't seem to see him at first. Terry swung the heavy wrench hard against the side of the mask. It whipped to the side but then centered back again, so Terry swung the wrench a second time, harder, letting out a little grunt of exertion. But he didn't get a third chance as Vance senior grabbed him around the upper arms and threw him across the room. He hit the ground hard enough that he lost his grip on the wrench, and then rolled for a few more feet, only stopping when he hit the wall.

Terry got to his feet and leapt almost immediately as Grandpa Vance charged at him, sinking its fist into the concrete wall up to the elbow, right where Terry's head had been only a moment before. 'Guess it got its sight back' Terry thought as he powerfully catapulted himself off the back of the Batsuit's head, driving it into the wall to join its fist. He did a graceful flip in the air before landing and putting some distance between him and the now irritated program. Then he turned and waited to see what it was going to do next.

Pulverizing even more concrete into rubble and dust, the Vance program used the power in the suit to yank itself free of the wall. In the process it also managed to pull out a rebar that clattered to the floor at Terry's feet. 'Yes!' Terry scooped it up in a flash, 'it's perfect!' Using it momentarily as a Bo staff Terry traded a few blows with the rogue Batsuit, trying to disable it slightly. Aiming his resourcefully gained weapon primarily for the lenses area, Terry thought that if he could blind it again it would really help him put his plan into motion.

Sparks started to flicker around the white lenses. Good. One last sweeping hit stretched the suit out wide to the side and Terry didn't wait for it to regain its shape. He ran and grabbed a long cord from the base of one of the many machines and went behind another to wrap it around the scavenged rebar. Time to put his plan into action. There – done, when plugged in it would make a very crude electromagnet, but it should work just fine. Now all he had to do was get it in that port of the Batsuit - the exposed one in the back of the neck - and plug it in.

Crouching low, he watched the Vance program look for him, waiting for his perfect chance as sweat rolled down his face. He was only going to get one. The Vance program turned the Batsuit's back to him and the port was still exposed from the interrupted transfer. Terry felt his eyes narrow as he drew in a breath to center himself. Then he stood, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion. The impact of the improvised harpoon made the suit stagger, and gave Terry enough time to run forward, and with a flying kick he drove the wire-wrapped rebar all the way through the suit. He flinched as he heard the homemade electromagnet pop through the front. Damn, that was yet another thing that he and Wayne were going to have to fix before he wore it again.

He had let himself be distracted for too long, because the suit recovered enough to toss him to the ground. Quickly, Terry crabbed backwards until his back hit something. His head turned as he felt along the base of the MRI machine and smiled, yes, his fingers outlined an outlet. He played possum, and the suit did not disappoint. It grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Terry had to fight his instincts that told him to fight it off with both hands, and instead reached for the dangling end of the cord with one. He plugged it in and then let his instincts take over, using both hands again to try and get the grip on his neck to ease.

Just as things were starting to go black around the edges, the grip around his throat finally eased off. Thankfully his theory had been right, Terry thought as he gasped for some much-needed air. The Vance program began to babble frantically as the magnetic current raced through the suit. "500 megs, 1000 kilobytes... Pi-r-squared... 2 2 = 4... me first, I wanna play... one potato, two potato...mama, ma – ma-a..."

Then, just as soon as there was no more cross-current to fight the magnetic energy, the suit deflated. Terry stood just as the rebar clanged with finality, falling to the floor. Sweat ran down his face even more freely now than before and he was sorer than hell, but he felt good. Very good, actually.

Turning around, he looked at Bobby. "You okay?" he asked in his Batman voice. The kid looked like he was going to shake apart, he was so scared, and Terry wondered if he was going to be able to stand when let out of the MRI.

"Ye-ah," Bobby cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I think that I'm going to be fine. Thanks to you – Batman?"

Terry made short work of the restraints holding the kid into place, but didn't bother helping the kid out of the machine. Then without another word he turned and picked up his suit, discarding the rebar as he did. Looking around, he also found the remnants of Bruce's old utility belt and picked that up also. He thought of something just as he was about to walk out the doors to go back up to the roof, and spoke without turning around.

"Bobby – this never happened. You understand?"

The voice that answered him sounded like it was in pain as well as confused. "What do you mean? My Grandfa-"

Terry spun around and cut him off roughly, "That wasn't your Grandfather Bobby, it was just a rogue program – binary that would to do anything to become flesh, including murder. You do remember that you were going to be its victim, don't you?" He paused, trying to think of the best way to handle this. "Bobby, the only advice that I can give you here is to live _your_ life, not your grandfather's or your father's – but make sure that no-one gets hurt while you are doing it."

Terry watched as the other young man's face went through an interesting range of emotions. Then it firmed into resolution. "You know, I think that's the best advice that I've ever gotten from anyone." he said.

Terry nodded and gave him a half smile, but stopped when Bobby spoke again, "And Batman – I understand, this never happened."

Terry nodded again and left. He made his way swiftly back to the roof and called the Batmobile to him with the homing beacon in his belt buckle. As soon as the canopy closed, the com-screen on the dash flickered into life and Bruce's face appeared. Terry grinned at him.

"So, you don't appear to be in too bad a shape and since you are smiling can I presume that you prevailed against the suit?" the older man asked.

"Prevailed? Yeah, you could say that – " Terry smirked, "– or you could say that my magnetic personality overcame the resistance."

Bruce just cocked an eyebrow at his young protégé. "I guess that you have quite the story to tell me when you get back here."

"Oh I do, Bruce, oh I do."

The next evening, Terry was just tidying up the tools and material he had used after repairing the holes he had made in the suit and Bruce had started in on reprogramming it when the vid-phone rang. It was Barbara Gordon, and she looked amused.

"Turn on the news, you might find the hot story rather interesting." Then she had hung up and Bruce had turned on the vid-screen.

Barbara was at the cave when he got back the night before, so she had heard the whole story for herself first-hand. Terry had been surprised to see her at first but Bruce had explained that he had called the Commissioner over last night after Terry had gone out just in case he hadn't been able to succeed. Terry had nodded, made sense to have a back-up plan in place and Barbara could get things done without causing a panic if need be.

They had tuned in just as the female newscaster was saying in a falsely cheery voice – _And in local news, it's the end of a dynasty as young Bobby Vance sells his family's computer company to a group of outside investors. When asked how his Grandfather would have reacted to the sale, the younger Vance summed it up succinctly:_

The screen zoomed in on the still that had been in the corner of the screen and the press conference came alive. There was Bobby Vance, standing behind a Vance-engraved podium with a range of other older men standing behind him. He spoke into the microphone, "Look, I've got to do what I need to do. Let's let my Grandfather rest in peace shall we?"

Terry grinned to hear his own words being paraphrased by the other man. 'Guess he really did like that advice'; he thought as the scene with Bobby in it froze again and shrank back to its place in the corner of the screen. The chipper newscaster said – _Delighted to do that Bobby, delighted. In sports – _click

Bruce turned off the vid-screen and looked back through the programming goggles. "The first time I programmed this thing, it didn't seem to take nearly this long." He grumbled.

"It's okay with me," Terry said. He was still feeling the effects of fighting with the suit, both inside it and out. "I can use the rest." He began to walk away, hands in his pockets.

Bruce said in an eerie voice, "Terry, it's only the suit that's out of commission, not Batman."

Terry stopped in his tracks, shocked, and looked over his shoulder at his mentor. He smiled, pride virtually thrumming through his body as he basked in the understated praise. Then, not knowing what to say, he turned and walked away again. Pausing at the top of the stairs he called back down,

"I'll be back after my Mom's gone to bed." He didn't wait for a reply.

End.


End file.
